


Point

by xCake



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 03:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xCake/pseuds/xCake
Summary: There was something about you that they just couldn’t shake. The fact that you outranked Steve might have had something to do with it.[ Stucky x Reader // Steve x Reader x Bucky ]





	Point

**Author's Note:**

> **Request:** What about Stucky having a crush on one of the newest Avengers (reader)?

****The first thing Bucky noticed about you was your smile, which lit up your face in such a way that the breath caught in his throat. Despite the stark, fluorescent lighting in the hallway, you were gorgeous, and the laugh that followed was even more so as you shoved Sam in the shoulder with a certain playful familiarity. 

You were friends, it looked like.

That was when Sam spotted him standing there like an idiot, and he introduced you with a grin – prefixed your name with ‘Captain,’ which made you snort. It wasn’t very ladylike, but Bucky didn’t care. He thought it was cute. It suited you.

“Come on, Sam, it’s ‘Major,’ now. Haven’t these good ol’ boys taught you a little respect?” you teased, nodding over to Bucky who was apparently one of the 'good ol' boys' you were talking about. Sam made a show of rolling his eyes and despite your casual demeanour with him, you addressed Bucky a bit more kindly, “Sergeant Barnes, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he stammered.

Smooth.

It caught him off guard, someone using his title from the Army. All anyone called him these days was the Winter Soldier, but not you. No, instead you directed that beautiful smile right at him and held out your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Sergeant.”

“Bucky,” he corrected, finally regaining his bearings a little as he shook your hand. Your handshake was surprisingly firm, much firmer than he would have expected from a woman. Then again, women these days were far more empowered than he was used to, not that that was a bad thing. It was just a new dynamic for him to adjust to along with everything else.

“Well then, Bucky,” you said, eyes twinkling with mischief, “You wanna help me teach our boy here some manners?”

Oh, he liked you already.

* * *

The first thing Steve noticed about you was your ass.

He didn’t mean to, honest, he didn't – just happened to round the corner into the plane hangar at the exact same time you bent over to pick up the file you’d dropped. He certainly wasn’t the type to really look at, let alone ogle a woman until he felt some kind of romantic way about her, but Christ, did you have a fantastic ass. The dark blue catsuit on your body almost seemed tailored to fit, enhancing every single one of your curves.

Any other day he would have helped you collect the strewn papers, well-mannered as he usually was, but he couldn’t help but stare. You must have just gotten back from a mission if the torn fabric on your thigh was any indication; not to mention he could smell the gunpowder residue on your clothing, coupled with the slightest hint of your sweat and inwardly he cursed his enhanced senses for it. You smelled good.

When you stood back up again, papers in hand, you spun around on your heel and made to leave the hangar. The little gold oak leaf on your collar glinted in the muted sunlight: a Major, then, but he didn’t know what branch. Air Force, maybe. You were wearing blue. What drew his attention away from the fact that you technically outranked him was your hair – glossy, just like your lips, he found, when they curled into a smirk.

You’d caught him staring.

His face was beet red before he even had a chance to introduce himself. Not that he really needed to, because he was in uniform and you were already holding your hand out for a handshake. He didn’t fail to hear the amusement in your voice when you offered him your name.

“Steve,” he responded, swallowing thickly when he realized exactly how small your hand was in his, how nice it felt. “Steve Rogers.”

“I’ve heard good things about you, Captain.” The way your eyes trailed down his body for the briefest of seconds before they snapped back up to his made him nervous, but not so much as when you added, “Very good things.”

At that, his throat went bone dry.

* * *

To say that this mission was awkward would have been an understatement.

It was unplanned, a hostage situation: rescue a group of rookie SHIELD agents who had royally fucked up. The only people on hand were the three of you, unless you counted Bruce, who was in the middle of a time-sensitive experiment in the lab and he really didn’t want a week’s worth of meticulous work to go down the drain.

In your opinion, the mission was even more time-sensitive, but you told him that you’d manage somehow. If nothing else, Bruce Banner could pull off some serious puppy dog eyes. You didn't realize until after you got in the elevator that you'd screwed yourself.

You found Steve and Bucky in the gym. That was where they usually were, either there or in the kitchen because their metabolisms were ridiculous and they were in a perpetual state of eating. You’d been working with them for about half a year now, and you still didn’t understand how they managed to get anything else done.

“We’ve got a mission,” you said abruptly, throwing a couple of gym towels at them.

Steve caught his at the last minute with an easy, “Thanks, doll,” a pet name that never failed to make your cheeks flush. You were sure he did it on purpose, because there was always a distinct twinkle in his eyes that let you know he’d noticed your reaction to it.

Just like now.

Bucky’s caught him right in the face, however, because he’d been in the middle of a deadlift and his hands were occupied. He dropped the barbell with an annoyed grunt and pulled the towel off of his head, giving you a look – the look, the one that conveyed exactly how much he appreciated your bullshit. Hint: he didn’t, but the playful smile on his lips made your heart warm.

That was how you ended up on the Quinjet with them. You’d been on missions with them before, of course, but never just the three of you. There was always at least one other person there, or just one of them. Never like this.

It was awkward as hell because you’d been attracted to Steve and Bucky since you met them, and as obvious as you tried to be about it, they just wouldn’t take the hint despite how much they flirted right back.

Steve was subtle. He snuck glances at you every now and then, called you ‘doll’ and ‘sweetheart’ so casually, slipped sweet little notes into your duffel bag right before a (planned) mission. Sometimes, you found them and they lifted your spirits. Other times, you found them at the worst possible moment, like a couple weeks ago when Tony yanked it out of your hands and read it out loud to everyone on the jet, the two of them included.

You didn’t talk to Tony for a week after that. Or Steve. It was embarrassing as hell, passing notes back and forth like the two of you were in high school when you were supposed to be a professional. You still had yet to live it down.

Of course, his notes never contained anything of real substance. He liked to compliment you – your hair, a new blouse, the bracelet you’d bought yourself for your birthday. You blushed anyway. He also liked to remind you to be careful, or to try out one of the new fighting techniques he’d taught you.

Steve was sweet.

Bucky, on the other hand, was just as stupidly obvious as you were. He was handsy with you; liked to touch you, feel you, know you were there, especially after a difficult mission or when either of you had a particularly gruelling day and you absolutely loved it.

Bucky was by no means good at giving massages, but he liked to try, and to his credit he usually managed to work the soreness out of your neck and shoulders. When you returned the favour, he always played into your hands like putty. Made you feel a little proud, actually – proud and turned on, which was a nightmare of a combination in such a relaxed atmosphere.

You were always so relaxed with him.

You often found him in the middle of the night in the living room, kept awake by what you assumed were the horrors of his past and just as often, you stayed with him until the early hours of the morning. More than once, he’d fallen asleep with his head in your lap while you threaded your fingers through his hair.

Bucky put on a tough front, but you knew deep down that he was just as sweet as Steve.

Needless to say, the whole situation was incredibly frustrating.

You were playing a dangerous game, though, and you knew it. They were best friends. Nothing would come between them, not even you as much as you desperately wanted to. That was one reason you never made a move. Another was because they’d been raised in a different time, when it was the man’s job to make the first move – as dumb as it sounded, you didn’t want to emasculate them.

So you made your intentions obvious as hell, but still no dice.

It was a quick flight. You briefed them on the way, running point on the operation because you were the one who received the phone call. You'd led plenty of missions in the past, of course, but not here and not with them. Awkward. Nerve-wracking. Uncomfortable. That's what it was.

Even so, it went without a hitch. The four agents you rescued were beyond grateful, but somehow, the flight back was even worse.

One in particular wanted to take you out to dinner as a thank you. You politely declined at least three times, but he just wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer until you made a point of taking the plane off autopilot. Not only were you way out of his league (not to toot your own horn), but it was late, you were tired, and you already had someone else in your heart.

Two someones.

The Quinjet was tense and quiet until you finally arrived back to the compound. The agents were too busy licking their wounds, so to speak; Steve and Bucky were having a hushed discussion at the back of the plane; and you, well, you were in a mood.

It pissed you off that he hadn’t taken your ‘no’ the first time. How disrespectful. You were an officer in the United States Air Force, for fuck’s sake, and you deserved to be treated with respect. He was just some low-level agent, and it was entirely his fault that you had to sacrifice your Friday night.

Dick.

You worked yourself up so much by the time you got back that you missed the sidelong glance the two boys gave you before they helped the group of agents off the plane and to the medical ward.

You’d be the last to disembark because you ran point, so it was your responsibility to ensure that everything was just as you’d found it: full tank of fuel, first aid kit replenished, floors clean and tidy. You’d seen Steve run through the checklist plenty of times. Bucky, too. Now it was your turn.

Grumbling to yourself, you dropped some gauze and bandage wrappers into the trash bag in your hands. The agents had been in pretty bad shape, even him, so much that you were going to have to mop the floors after because they’d bled all over the place. Fantastic.

After a quick tidy, you slung the first aid kit – duffel, really – over your shoulder and went to the cabinet in the hangar where the extra supplies were kept. You had to bend over and dig for some of the things you needed, specific sizes of gauze and certain lengths of bandages but you finally found them; and when you shut the cabinet doors you nearly jumped out of your own skin.

“Jesus Christ,” you swore, throwing a packet of gauze at Bucky. “Don’t do that!” 

This time, he caught it easily. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Nothing,” you told him, but the angry way you shoved the supplies back into the kit made it pretty obvious that you were lying.

“Sure doesn’t seem like nothing,” Bucky commented dryly.

You frowned at him before you held out your hand, palm facing up. “Give me that.”

He looked at you in amusement. “I’ll give it to you if you tell me.”

What a child.

You rolled your eyes and went to snatch it away yourself, but he held it over your head, taunting you with it. Now, you weren’t exactly tall, but Bucky sure was. He was tall and strong and when you jumped for it, he just held it up even higher.

“God damn it, Bucky,” you cursed. “Give it here.”

“Ask nicely,” he teased, lowering it so that it was within your reach once more.

You groaned. “I’m so not in the mood for this.”

But then you lunged for it again anyway – except this time, you didn’t realize that he’d brought it much closer to himself until you landed. You wound up having to catch yourself with one hand on his shoulder, otherwise you probably would have smacked heads or something equally as stupid.

“You’re so predictable,” he said, then, and you weren’t sure whether to huff indignantly or ask what he meant.

Inside, though, your heart was pounding, not because of the jumping but because of your close proximity. Something was different. This wasn’t like that relaxing atmosphere on the sofa, either in the middle of the night or with his thumbs massaging deep circles into your shoulders. There was tension, and a hell of a lot of it.

You could feel his body heat through his tac jacket – he always ran hot, and so did Steve – and you felt your cheeks start to burn. You were way too close.

When you went to step away, however, his free arm slid around your waist and he pulled you closer, flush against him. Your breath hitched when you looked up into his eyes: such a beautiful pale blue, normally, but they were a little darker than usual.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly, fingers curling instinctively in the material of his jacket.

“Kissin’ you.”

You didn’t have time to respond before his lips were hot on yours, and you absolutely melted against him. Your other hand came up to grasp at his jacket in a desperate attempt of pulling him even closer as his talented mouth worked yours, sending a rush of heat through you straight to your core.

When your hair was gently brushed to the side, it didn’t register at first; only when another pair of lips pressed a kiss to your neck did you suddenly break away, eyes jumping between the two of them in alarm.

“What’s happening right now?” you asked, like an idiot.

“We saw someone flirting with our girl,” Steve told you, one of his large hands slowly sliding down your spine to the small of your back, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “Didn’t like it a whole lot, did we, Buck?”

“Not one bit.” Bucky released you, then, and gave you a gentle push toward Steve. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.”

You stared at Bucky for a moment, flabbergasted, before you finally turned to Steve. The problem was that you did feel shy all of a sudden. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because it was a lot to take in all at once, after you’d convinced yourself that everything had all been an exercise in futility.

Then Steve smiled at you -- sweet and genuine, just like always -- and pulled your hand into his, giving you enough confidence to bury your fingers in his hair and bring him down for a kiss. It was passionate, full of months of pent-up frustration just like the one you’d shared with Bucky. Your body was on fire, burning with need and desire and everything you’d always wanted from the two of them.

When Steve pulled away, you looked up at him in a daze.

“Guess you didn’t read my note,” he said softly.

Your voice was breathy when you spoke again, “What note?”

“I asked you to hang around so we could talk. It’s probably still in your bag.”

Bucky snorted. “Why would she check her bag before she got back to her room?”

That was the same question you were about to ask, but when Steve shot him a pointed look, it all clicked into place.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you said incredulously, taking a purposeful step away so that your back was pressed up against Bucky’s chest instead – the very same Bucky who slid his arms around you protectively, chuckling a little into your hair.

Steve’s face immediately flushed at your tone.

“I-- I didn’t mean--” he stammered. “It was for privacy!”

You laughed at that, taking Bucky’s metal hand into one of yours and holding your free one out to Steve. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest; either that, or you were floating on air. Possibly both. “Well, I guess we’ll need some privacy, then, won’t we?”

The only other time you’d seen Steve’s face so beet red was when the first time you met him, and it was just as endearing then as it was now.

He was sweet. Bucky was, too. And they were yours. Both of them.


End file.
